


The Picnic

by talesofsymphoniac



Category: The Death Gate Cycle - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Crack, Gen, Humor, I Don't Even Know, It's a crackfic ok? Ok.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 11:43:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19333855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talesofsymphoniac/pseuds/talesofsymphoniac
Summary: The gang learns the true origins of the Patryn/Sartan divide.





	The Picnic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BiRadiant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiRadiant/gifts).
  * Inspired by [This tumblr post](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/492526) by What-was-that-war-about on Tumblr. 



> Crackfic is not my strength as a writer but sometimes I write it anyway.

Our scene opens in the Nexus, outside Haplo, Marit, and Alfred’s home. Tables and blankets are set out all around, and it seems half the population of the Nexus has arrived. Balthazar and Vasu are talking at one of the tables, and Sartan and Patryns alike are meandering, their children all playing together out on the grass. Zifnab and the good dragons have just arrived. Even Ramu can be seen loading his plate, watching the event play out.

“It’s a lovely day for a picnic,” Alfred says.

Marit leans against the table where she and her partners are sitting. “I can’t believe everyone actually agreed to show up. Or that you planned all of this in the first place.”

“It’s no trouble, really,” Alfred assures. “I’ve helped oversee these sorts of things before, working in the palace.”

“So what exactly are we serving?” Haplo asks, looking down at his own plate. “I don’t think I recognize it.”

Alfred positively beams. “I didn’t, either! I’ve been excited for this part. During my digging around in the archives, I managed to find an ancient recipe book, predating even the Sundering, if you can believe it! It was a traditional food for events where there were a lot of people to feed, since you can eat it with your hands and put all sorts of things on top of it.”

“An old classic, pizza,” Zifnab agrees, and all three of them jump at the sudden presence of the wizard at their picnic table. “Perfect for picnics, birthdays, or dungeon crawling with colorful little dice!”

The other attendees seem to agree. The food tables are prepared with several varieties of the main course, along with various sides and drinks, and when the supply began to dwindle, it’s easy enough to duplicate another serving. This happens quite often as more and more Sartan and Patryns fill and refill their plates.

“This is great,” Marit concludes, taking a sip of her drink, something sweet and bubbly. She nudges Haplo. “What do you have on that one?”

“I think it’s meats, mostly. Sausage.”

“I think mine has pine nuts,” Marit muses, taking another bite. Her eyes slide over to Alfred’s plate and she stops. “Wait a minute, Alfred, what’s that on yours?”

“Oh?” Alfred blinks. “Let’s see. Ham and black olives and pineapple.”

Marit makes a face. “Pineapple? Seriously?”

Beside her, Zifnab blanches. “Oh, dear,” he mumbles.

“Hang on,” Haplo says, leaning over. “That’s a fruit. These don’t seem like a fruit thing.”

“Actually, I quite like the bit of sweetness it gives,” Alfred says.

Haplo looks skeptical. “Hang on, let me try.” He steals Alfred’s slice and takes a bite out of the side, deliberately getting a mouthful of fruit. He grimaces, shakes his head. “That,” he declares, “is disgusting.”

“It is not,” Alfred says, affronted. “It’s called complementary flavors and it’s very common in all kinds of--”  
“You took a perfectly good meal and you ruined it,” Marit interrupts, shaking her head.

Zifnab tenses, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. “Please, please don’t do this.”

“He’s right,” Haplo says.

“Oh, thank God,” Zifnab says with a relieved sigh.

“Please don't defend that _travesty,"_ he says seriously. "In front of the children, really!"

Zifnab swears.

"Hopefully they don't end up such picky eaters," Alfred says, shaking his head. "A _travesty_ , really... I think you're being a bit dramatic, my dear."

" _Dramatic?"_ Haplo echoes dramatically. He suppresses a smile as he takes another bite.

Alfred rolls his eyes.

“I like the pineapple,” pipes up Rue, age eight, from her seat at one of the blankets near her parents.

"Look at that, you've corrupted them, now!" Haplo exclaims. Rue grins up at him, and he winks back at her.

One of her older brothers steals a bite from her plate and scowls. “How could my own little sister say something so completely wrong?” he mourns.

Marit snickers, leaning against Haplo’s arm conspiratorially. “Not all of them," she says to Alfred."We can save them, yet."

Inevitably, this leads to each one of their children grabbing at each other’s plates. Teasing quickly escalates into playful arguments which quickly escalate into wrestling and bickering.

Zifnab glances around nervously, standing up from his seat. “I’m serious!” he warns. “You need to stop this now! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

“Alright, alright,” Marit calls, and the kids pause in their fighting to look up at her. She crosses her arms, eyes shining. “All of you who like the pineapple, you get to stay with Grandfather. All the kids with good taste can stay with us.”

Haplo purses his lips, trying not to laugh as Marit’s words strike up a new round of arguments among the children.

Alfred huffs. “Honestly.”

“I hate to say it, but Alfred is right,” a new voice chimes in. The three of them turn, quite surprised to see Ramu of all people, standing there, plate in hand. On the plate, they can clearly see a half eaten slice of pizza with yellow tropical fruit chunks. “This is delicious,” Ramu admits, oblivious to their shock. “I suppose this community picnic idea was a good thing after a--”  
“See?” Marit interrupts, throwing her hands up into the air. “ _Ramu_ is agreeing with you on this, Alfred! You really want to be on the same side as _Ramu?”_

Ramu instantly sours, turning his head with a disdainful sniff. “Nevermind, then!” He tosses his plate aside, food and all. “I wouldn’t expect _Patryns_ to have a civilized palate anyway!”

To the side, Zifnab plants his face into his hands with a slap.

Marit stands up, her palms pressed flat against the table. Her eyes glint dangerously. “What the _fuck_ did you just say?”

Silence falls over the picnic. It is broken when one of the children, inspired by Ramu, sends her own plate flying through the air, hitting the Sartan directly in the face.

Someone-- Marit will later deny it was her-- lets out a victorious _whoop,_ and just like that, plates are flying everywhere, Sartan and Patryn alike are yelling out insults and threats, and the picnic, such as it was, seems to be over.

In the middle of it all, Zifnab sighs, flops over uselessly on the picnic table, and covers his face with his hat. “Not again,” he groans.

**Author's Note:**

> I am. Sorry.
> 
> You can find me at [deathgatesideblog.tumblr.com!](deathgatesideblog.tumblr.com)


End file.
